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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25283833">Reports Of My Death</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/notoneforreality/pseuds/notoneforreality'>notoneforreality</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>R&amp;D (Relationships and Dynamics) [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>James Bond (Craig movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>007 Fest, 007 Fest 2020, Autsitic Character, Bomb threat, Character Death, F/F, M/M, Non-Verbal, Not Really Character Death, Q (James Bond) is a Holmes, Q is Autistic, R is a good friend, References to Canon-Typical Violence, Revenge, Stimming, Team Q Branch, autistic traits, but not really, but that's not really mentioned in this one, so is Bobby</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 09:41:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,190</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25283833</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/notoneforreality/pseuds/notoneforreality</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>James is woken by a phone call. R is ringing to give bad news, and Bobby is somewhere chasing up the cause, and there's someone in the living room.</p><p>In which the list of the dead is inaccurate.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James Bond/Q</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>R&amp;D (Relationships and Dynamics) [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1790158</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>230</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Reports Of My Death</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>At oh-four-hundred hours on Thursday morning, James’ phone rings. He’s sat up, at attention, in half a second with the phone at his ear, ready for whatever information requires waking him up at a godawful time in the morning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bond,” he barks into the phone. Pleasantries are for nice conversations at reasonable hours.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Agent Bond,” R says on the other end of the line. Her voice is hesitant, soft and broken, and James narrows his eyes. She pauses. “Q is dead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>James springs from the bed, the thrum of his pulse loud in his head as he reaches for the gun in the bedside drawers. Not that there’s anything he can do with it, but the weight of it, solid in his hand, grounds him. It doesn’t hurt that this is one of Q’s special designs, either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>R is telling him about a small terror cell that Double-oh Three is being sent out after —  she was already at Six despite for the early hour some reason or other — and James wrenches the bedroom door open, pacing down the hall to the living room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stops.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a few moments, he composes himself enough to ask, “How did he die?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the sofa, through a mouthful of noodles, Q says, “Very dramatically and heroically.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There was an explosion in Q-Branch,” R says on the other end of the phone. “I was in a meeting with M, but the others are saying Q got everyone else out first. He was supposed to be defusing the bomb.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>James closes his eyes, then opens them again because the backs of his eyelids provide images to go along with the story. He watches Q switch between the containers of chow mein and sweet and sour chicken, one hand holding chopsticks and the other tangled in Ada’s fur. His leg bounces, almost unsettling one of the takeaway boxes, but his breathing is regular and calm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have they found his body?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” R misses a beat. “He’s not you, Double-oh Seven, you can’t wait for him to come back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>James doesn’t need to wait. He does need to hang up the phone and ask many questions, but he also needs to continue playing the part of the distressed boyfriend. The shattered edge to R’s voice means that she thinks Q is dead, and if he hasn’t told her, it will be for a reason. So James has to make her think she believes him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What can I do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you already; M doesn’t want you out there.” The words aren’t harsh. She had told him, but that had been when he did believe her, and his processing powers had been taken up by the sudden death, rather than words in his ear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a taught silence, and James hears a bitten off sob that makes him soft. It’s not hard to pretend to be upset, playing up his empathy. “Just let me know when anything happens,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Agent,” R says, then hangs up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>James switches the phone off, puts it and the gun face down on the coffee table, and crosses his arms. “You’re not dead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not dead,” Q parrots, once he’s finished swallowing his chicken. He takes his hand out of Ada’s fur to move containers and she jumps onto his shoulders. Charles winds his way out of the kitchen and leaps up onto the sofa, taking her place. Q scoops him up into his lap, then looks at James.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>James sits. Their legs fall together and the warmth of the contact settles him. He’s lost far too many people. Double-oh Two had been surprised, after Vesper, had expected James to be cold and hard and devoid of attachment like himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t you used to it?” Agent Beaufort had asked, unabashed and almost derisive. “Like ninety percent of the people you’ve ever known are dead, and more of them are going to die. That’s the job.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>James doesn’t like Double-oh Two.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“James,” Q says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It sounds like he’s said it a few times and James blinks, turning away from where he’d been staring at the black TV screen. He’s possibly panicking a little bit, because he’s not on a job; he’s home, where he and Q have both been practising dealing with emotions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he looks, Q’s face is flushed a little. James is about to ask why, when he stands up, dropping cats and chinese tubs, and steps over to sit on James’ lap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m here,” Q says, “and you’re here. We can both look after ourselves, and look after each other.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you so calm? You’re supposed to be dead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Q shrugs, unbothered. “I had a meltdown in the bunker at Six and when I came back I really wanted chinese and people thought I was dead. I thought it would be a good idea to let them continue thinking that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You had a meltdown? On your own?” That was a stupid question. If anyone had found and helped Q through the meltdown, they wouldn’t all think he was dead. Which means he had to deal with it himself and now he has to deal with James having something a little less than a panic attack.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine.” Q waves the concern away, but James spots bruises on his ams, and when he runs his hands up into Q’s hair, he hisses. “I just banged my head a bit,” he says, and the petulance in his voice would make James smile in any other situation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why didn’t you find anyone afterwards?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wouldn’t have been able to find anyone during, and James would bet that Q hadn’t had enough warning of the his own emotions to find anyone beforehand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On his lap, Q stills.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a pause, he says, “The bomb was in my office.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s only when Q yelps a little and clutches at James’ shoulders that he realises he’s halfway to standing, and he brings his arms around Q before he can fall, and then slowly and deliberately settles back down on the sofa.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Q folds into him, pressing against his chest, and James shifts his hands so one is splayed across Q’s back, feeling the faint but solid thud of his heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then the phone rings. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>James swears and loosens his grip on Q for long enough to reach for the phone on the table, regretting even that much as Q starts to shake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bond,” he snaps into the mic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There was a mole in Q-Branch,” Agent Bobby Carter says without preamble. “Q was the target; it wasn’t just a random attack that he got caught in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to fucking kill them,” James says, because he can say that to Double-oh Three. She knows what it’s like. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not that Q doesn’t know what it’s like — he’s just as competent with a weapon as any of the Double-ohs, although his hand-to-hand isn’t great, and James knows he’s shot at least one person before — but Q is trembling and rocking in James’ lap, now, and swearing at him, even when it’s not about him, isn’t a good idea. Swearing around him is fine. There are a lot of things that are fine to do around Q as long as their not at him, and there are a lot of things that are absolutely not. James is getting better at finding the boundary and keeping clear of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“M doesn’t want you out,” Bobby starts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>James cuts her off, “I don’t care. Fuck M.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“M doesn’t want you out,” Bobby repeats, louder and more intent. “But the mole is inside Six.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” James says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In his lap, Q stops rocking and instead wraps his hands around James’ arm. His breathing evens out, and the shaking gentles. James glances down and Q wiggles his index finger, eyebrows pulled down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As a response, James holds up his own finger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So?” Bobby’s voice is brusque, and James would be irritated by it from anyone else. He knows Bobby, though, knows that she’s shoving all her grief as far down as possible until she finishes her job, which doesn’t leave any room for polite tones unless absolutely necessary.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think they’ll still be there?” He asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know they’re still there,” Bobby says. “This lot have gone the opposite of fleeing the scene of the crime and Isobel Fallows is claiming one of the overnights.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. I need to sort some things out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So do I,” says Bobby, and drops the call without saying goodbye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She will have the cell down by tomorrow, and if James can get to Vauxhall Cross, he’ll have Fallows down in less than half an hour, which means that Q’s worries shouldn’t be an issue anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m calling R,” he says. The face Q makes isn’t happy, but it’s also not an argument, and he doesn’t try to physically block James from making the call, so he takes it as perhaps not quite acceptance, but agreement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He calls R.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello?” she says, distracted. There’s a fair chance she didn’t even look at the caller ID before answering.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s me,” James says. “Can you come over to the flat?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The brief pause is a mix of incredulous and irritated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m working,” R says. “Trying to sort out this mess. I’m not leaving until I’ve done everything I can.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>James doesn’t tell her that isn’t healthy because it’s exactly how he’s feeling, and he knows that Q isn’t actually dead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, but it’s important.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing is more important,” she says, her voice savage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“R, please I need you to come to the flat so I can come in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come in yourself. You’re not locked out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t explain over the phone but I need you here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m busy,” R says, “Q—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Needs you here,” James says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It tears something like a sob or a growl from R. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare use him against me for your own ends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>James takes a breath. “Please,” he says, soft and trying to press so much into his voice. </span>
  <em>
    <span>We’re friends, we both want Q safe, I trust you, trust me, I’m trying to help. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Just trust me, please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His voice breaks on the last word, and that might be what convinces R.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hate you.” The rush of wind makes it sound like she’s moving now. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There won’t be any traffic at this time of night, but James still gets Q to pull up his green light program to speed the journey.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When R knocks on the door, James is already waiting next to it. He’s got a holster with his gun ready, a knife strapped to his calf, and an earpiece in his pocket that Q had pressed into his hand three minutes ago. Q is curled up against the arm of the couch, face vague and disconnected. He’d slipped away not long after James moved him off his lap and it pulls at James’ chest, but he’d had to get ready.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opens the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>R fixes him with a glare, and then her eyes drift past his shoulder and her knees buckle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He catches her easily, and waits until she’s got her legs under her again before releasing her to fly across the room to Q, stopping just in front of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Q,” she breathes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Q’s eyes flicker, and James watches consciousness come back to them slowly, until Q is reaching out for R, pulling her onto his lap. She goes without protest, familiar with being used as a weight to trap Q in his body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then they both look at James. He nods at them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve got a mole to see to. I’ll be back before lunch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he closes the door, he hears R’s voice, faint and reprimanding, “Q, you idiot, you don’t have to deal with things on your own.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>James is more than happy to deal with this on his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gets rid of Fallows and dumps her in Tanner’s office with a warning to check his staff properly, next time. Tanner tells him to fuck off in a tone that’s almost friendly and then, slightly more seriously, asks James what he thinks of R for the next Quartermaster.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“R is good, but I wouldn’t bother rearranging staff just yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tanner asks, but James is already halfway down the corridor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At eleven-hundred hours, Bobby calls again. James is back at the flat, making food for himself and R while Q naps on the sofa with both the cats perched on top of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re dead,” she says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>James says, “Good, come over to the flat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tomorrow, they’ll go into work and Q will send out an inter-office memo about how reports of his death have been greatly exaggerated. R will sit at her desk outside his office like a guard and James and Bobby will spend their time in the range shooting things that aren’t people.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For now, though, the four of them will sit in this little living room with each other, eat food, watch old TV shows, and know that each of them are safe.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Keep notes:<br/>--james gets a call in the midde of the night that q's dead adn he panics for like three whole seconds before walking out of the bedroom and Q's just sat there on the sofa like ...hey<br/>--R, on the other end of the phone: "There was an explosion. We haven't managed to recover the body yet but we've got poeple working on it."<br/>Bond, seconds away from killing Q himself: "Let me know when they've found his corpse"<br/>--ah so I kind of hate this because I had a whole thing planned and then my brain broke halfway through<br/>--I do still love the beginning though<br/>--I've got at least two more planned in this series and they're supposed to be in an order but I might write the second one first and then just rearrange the series order bc I am very interested in the second and currently dont have too many ideas for the first<br/>--we'll see how that goes</p></blockquote></div></div>
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